Friday, 10 March 2017
The Meadow
This one took me a long long time... and not particularly pleasant work, given the melancholic psychological state it's supposed to depict. This is the second ending in my series so far, so like before, tomorrow will be something quite different.
Peter looked for me.
Everywhere I was, he followed, clinging moss on stony shore.
He sang so sweetly. His voice was flickering out.
Until one day his voice drew silent.
I turned around, he wasn't there.
My heart was filled with cruel happiness.
The tree grew old. The meadow drew colder. I stayed the same.
I went to my room and found a single rose on my bed. I crushed it.
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